


Hot as Vulcan

by Raven_Knight



Series: 2018 Autumn OTP Challenge - Multifandom [19]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Admiration of the biology...of...Andorians, Bones and Uhura really needed this vacation, Don't copy to another site, Gambling, Las Vegas Vacation, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 15:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17665205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Knight/pseuds/Raven_Knight
Summary: McCoy and Uhura use their limited shore leave time for a quick vacation in Las Vegas together.





	Hot as Vulcan

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. This piece, archived at Archive of Our Own (Ao3), is purely a non-commercial work of fiction from which I am not profiting in any way. This work may not be reproduced, archived, or redistributed by any means and/or in any format without prior written permission from me. Permission may be obtained by contacting me at r4v3n.kn1ght@gmail.com. 
> 
> This series of oneshots belong to the 2018 Autumn OTP Challenge, though I have done away with the OTP part of it and focus instead on either romantic ships I ship or platonic relationships that fit the prompt given. This oneshot is in response to prompt #19: Quick Weekend Trip to a Hot Place. ~ RK

**Hot as Vulcan**  
**By  
** **Raven Knight**

Leonard McCoy shoved open the door to the building, sweat dripping from his overheated face to soak into the handkerchief he wore around his neck. In his relief of stepping into the considerable blast of cold air conditioning, he nearly forgot his manners in holding the door open for his travel companion. “It’s hot as Vulcan out there!” he grouched as Uhura, sweating as well but managing to look far more put together than McCoy, strode past him and into the casino. Her wide-brimmed sunhat fluttered with her steps as much as the fabric of her dress streamed attractively behind her…

…not that McCoy was looking.

He caught up to her quickly. “I can say that with authority because I’ve been on Vulcan, and it’s just as hot here as it was on that logical planet.”

Uhura visually scanned their surroundings to get her bearings before she wasted what remained of her fading energy. “All I know is that we need to get to a table so we can get some free drinks before we pass out from dehydration.” She pointed with her empty water bottle towards the blackjack tables she finally located. “Come on, Leonard!”

“Aye, Captain.”

They made their way to the tables in a straight line, not even caring that they had to weave a little through the blindingly bright slot machines to get there. Uhura shouted at him over the noise of the casino, “I know we only have just over two days to really experience Vegas, but I don’t think we understood just how far one end of the strip is from the other!” She shoved her empty bottle into the bin as they passed. “I’m exhausted!”

“Me, too. Though we did get that late start yesterday,” he reminded her.

She threw back an unimpressed glare. “I was jetlagged. You can’t expect me to go gambling when I can barely function.”

He leaned in closer to her ear so as not to offend anyone who might hear him. “What do you think the majority of these people are doing? Do they look functional to you?”

Uhura burst out laughing.

They reached the blackjack table and slid into the only two seats available. Uhura next to a Klingon with a cane leaning against the table and McCoy next to a tourist even more obviously a tourist than himself. He did a double take at the young man’s apparent age, for a moment wondering if this kid was even old enough to sit at the table considering he could give the youthful Chekov a run for his credits in the Looks Underage Department. McCoy swiped his straw hat from his head and set it on his knee before reaching for his identification to get himself into the game as quick as possible. Uhura took her time a bit more than he did, but before long they were both focused intently on trying to win some of their credits back that they’d embarrassingly lost all the way back in New York-New York and the Luxor.

The Klingon at Uhura’s right leaned over to her and said, “Qapla',” before their first hand at the table began but then he proceeded to put down three times the minimum bet at his place. By the time the third hand came around, McCoy concluded that the young tourist on his left was an idiot, or a first-time player, or both. He kept leaning over to the friend further down the table to ask what he should do on every single card put in front of him. After a few more hands, McCoy wondered if this kid wasn’t just acting stupid to get the table to talk more. But McCoy didn’t want to talk to this most likely dumb neighbor, and Uhura seemed stuck in conversation with her Klingon neighbor, who proceeded to explain in detail the method behind the madness of his risky betting strategy. McCoy looked to the last hope for conversation at the table then reconsidered when he realized that the middle-aged Vulcan was more engrossed in her admittedly delicious-looking hot chocolate than the cards on the table or the credits she put down each hand. McCoy would have bet that a Vulcan playing blackjack would win more often than not with the legendary memory and likelihood of counting cards successfully without even trying. A drunk Vulcan apparently stood no chance at such success. With no one else at the table to talk to, and the Klingon monopolizing his friend’s attention entirely, McCoy’s only table companion turned out to be the rum and coke he’d been sipping and having magically refilled for the last hour.

Some occupants of their table came and went. In the case of the tipsy Vulcan, however, some came back. McCoy, Uhura, and the aggressively-betting Klingon remained at the table, even when three chutes in a row worked out for none of them at the table. They toughed it through and made their money last for another solid winning streak for everyone. As the evening progressed, Uhura started to take after her neighbor’s betting style as an experiment. It did her well, and before ten more hands were through she’d earned back triple her credits and then some. McCoy couldn’t bring himself to join on that style of betting and therefore continued his own special strategy.

 Until the atmosphere of the casino shifted and strategy or winning streaks had less to do with why anyone stayed at their tables. The dancers and barely-dressed evening crew had arrived.

A perfectly proportioned Andorian female twisted, turned, and undulated both above and in front of their table. Her faultless pale sky blue skin glimmered with the fine glitter stuck to her body, drawing more attention to…certain areas of her body. Typically, Andorians had blonde or white hair, but her shiny locks were so black they nearly reflected the flashing lights around her and took on an endless rainbow of colors depending on how the lights hit her. She had lips to match the hair and curved in a sinful half-smile. Finally, the scraps of fabric she wore to avoid fully exposing herself did absolutely nothing to hide the rest of her figure yet did everything possible to accentuate the firmly-sculpted, sensually-curved flawlessness on fluid display for anyone in the casino.

No one at the table noticed that the chute had taken a turn for the dealer’s favor for a while. The Klingon just kept throwing credits down, tapping the table for a hit, and just barely catching himself to stand. Uhura maintained a bit more focus, but she was taking out her admiration of the Andorian dancer with long, drawn-out sips from her wine. McCoy, on the other hand, openly stared. Uhura occasionally had to nudge him to indicate to the dealer whether he was hitting or standing, and when this happened, he snapped out of his staring so violently he nearly knocked over his rum and coke. The only player not affected by the dancer because either the gameplay or the hot cocoa of unknown number proved far more interesting was the Vulcan.

The end of the chute arrived, and the next one was prepared. The dealer performed the shuffling and deck-check quickly, efficiently, and with a hint of showmanship. While this went on, McCoy leaned over to Uhura. “I can’t not look at her.”

Uhura looked at the dancer making eye contact with McCoy. “Try, Leonard.”

McCoy sipped his drink without looking away from the blue beauty. “Don’t lie to me, Darlin’. I know you’ve been looking too.”

Uhura laughed at being caught without him even looking at her. “Alright, I admit I looked.” The dealer offered the colored card to the only person paying attention to him to mark the stop point in the new deck. The Vulcan did the honors. “What I can’t figure out is—”

“—are those breasts real?”

Uhura sipped her wine. “I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say her ass. It’s just so—”

“Firm and—”

“Perfect.”

“Yeah,” McCoy groaned the word. They both watched the beautiful, glittering Andorian move sensually on the platform.

“You want to hit that,” a gruff, impatient voice said.

“What?” asked Uhura.

“Hit that!” said the Klingon.

It took her a second or two to realize he meant her cards. “Oh!” She motioned for another card, then raised her drink with a cheer as the next card gave her twenty.

McCoy did not have her good luck. At the end of the hand and a few credits less for McCoy, his communicator chirped at his hip. “Be right back, deal me out a hand,” he said to the dealer, who nodded in response. McCoy stood and answered his communicator somewhere among the slot machines. “McCoy, here.”

“Doctor, it is the Captain.”

McCoy rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “Spock, you’re aware I’m on vacation.”

“I am aware, but you are his attending physician.”

“I’m not attending him if I’m not there, you green-blooded—”

“Jim needs you here. He has suffered an accident.”

That stopped McCoy’s irritation cold. “What kind of accident?” Spock did not answer immediately and his concern spiked along with his blood-pressure. “Spock, damnit, what the hell happened?” he shouted.

“The Captain has pulled several muscles in his interscapular and posterior lumbar region resulting in severely restricted movement and difficulty doing so.”

McCoy translated that with a frustrated growl, “Are you telling me that Jim threw out his back?”

“Affirmative, Doctor.”

“And how the hell did he do that?”

“Give me that, Spock,” Jim painfully said in the background on Spock’s end of the communication. After some shuffling, Jim’s voice came through clearer and louder, but so did his pain. “I’ll give you…three guesses, Bones, but you’ll probably…only need one.”

McCoy took a breath, held it, and counted to five. “Yeah, fine. Okay. Don’t bend, twist, or lift anything.”

“Bones, I can’t even move that good right now!” Jim’s pain cut off anything further he might have added.

“Good!” McCoy said in his best patronizing tone. “Maybe this’ll teach you to do as the Vulcans do and actually rest, you know, cease using energy when you’re on leave!” Jim whimpered. “If you really need a doctor right now, Jim, you know the number of the hospital. Call it. Have them fix you up and then give the recovery instructions to Spock so we all know you actually do what you’re supposed to do. Christine’s stayed home this time, so if you desperately need someone to make a house call, call her.”

“She makes Spock uncomfortable.”

“I’d bet the two of you making eyes at each other among other activities makes her more uncomfortable,” McCoy fired back. “It’s either Chris or no one, Jim. What’s your pick?”

Jim took a long time to decide. “Christine’s fine.”

“Thought so.” He looked back to the table and saw Uhura aggressively trying to protect his seat from a new player. “I gotta go win my credits back, Jim. Call me if you’re dying.” He ended the call and jogged back to the table, sliding into his seat much to the displeasure of the newcomer but to Uhura’s relief. “Sorry,” he said to her. “What’d I miss?”

The Klingon leaned forward with his glass raised. “Qapla'! Your friend got her number.” Uhura smiled wickedly at McCoy then shoved a crumbled slip of paper into his hand, her wine raised with the Klingon’s drink.

“Success, indeed,” McCoy said, lifted his newly refilled rum and coke and clinked it to his companions’ glasses. As he sipped, he slid his gaze to the Andorian dancer. She winked at him.

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not have been based on actual events. What happens in Vegas...well, you know, right?
> 
> Let me know what you think of it, or hit the kudos button if you're shy. Thanks for reading! ~ RK


End file.
